


A Rose Without A Thorn

by dragonofdispair



Series: Across the Great Divide [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M, anniversarychallenge16, oversensitivity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-14 01:47:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7994170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonofdispair/pseuds/dragonofdispair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jazz won Prowl over with persistence and care, but that doesn’t mean he always gets to touch. Or that the challenges are over.</p><p>At least that’s what Prowl thinks. Jazz doesn’t consider this life a <i>challenge.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	A Rose Without A Thorn

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [anniversarychallenge16](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/anniversarychallenge16) collection. 



> For the prompt “A Rose Without a Thorn” for the ProwlxJazz Livejournal community anniversary challenge.
> 
> Beta’ed by 12drakon

Prowl woke up in pain. 

Blearily he brought up the alarm notice on his HUD and checked it. He set it to go off at the same time every day, even on his days off, but there was something today…  

_ Visit to the Imperial Gardens with Jazz. _

Right, that. It was his day off. He didn’t have to go to work, but he couldn’t just stay in bed and sleep this off either. And Jazz would be here any kli— 

A soft knock on his apartment door resounded through his helm and set sensors aflame. Ow…

But he should not ignore Jazz. The mech was the most  _ wonderful _ person Prowl had ever dated. He already dealt with so much on account of Prowl’s glitch; Prowl couldn’t ask him to skip scheduled activities as well!

So he pried himself tiredly from the berth as Jazz knocked again, this time a bit louder. Prowl shuddered. He wrapped the softest blanket around himself like a shield against Jazz’s coming ire and trudged for the door.

He opened it.

“Hey Prowl! I…” Jazz immediately trailed off seeing the state his lover was in. “What’s wrong?” he said, much, much more softly. 

“Nothing,” Prowl assured. “I’ll be ready in a breem.” At least today’s trip to the gardens promised to be quiet. He didn’t know that he could force himself to go the theater or some other non-solitary activity today. Well he  _ could, _ he knew. After all, his glitch wasn’t kind enough to schedule these days only for his days off work and he’d learned to work through them. But the Imperial Gardens weren’t truly public, and therefore shouldn’t harbor much noise or activity to aggravate his state. At least he could settle down in some quiet corner of the garden while Jazz explored. 

“Hmmm… no,” Jazz said decisively. “Slag that. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s really nothing,” Prowl insisted, though he knew the illusion had been thoroughly wrecked by how he’d flinched from the sound of his lover’s voice. “This doesn’t have to interfere. I’ll get ready and we can head out.”

Jazz’s visor narrowed. “We ain’t going anywhere at  _ least _ until y’tell me what’s going on.”

Prowl felt his doorwings droop under the blanket. He’d hoped today could at least still be an enjoyable trip for Jazz. “Nothing,” he still insisted. “It just hurts. I’ve learned to work through it; I can certainly spend the day in a quiet garden just fine. I,” his doorwings drooped further, “I want to spend time with you.”

“What do y’normally do when this happens?” Prowl considered what to say — he certainly didn’t  _ want _ to say that he usually tried to spend the day asleep whenever he could, because then Jazz would  _ leave _ and… And Jazz seemed to read his mind because, “Tell me,” Jazz insisted.

“Just sleep. Quiet.” Prowl admitted. “But I  _ do _ want to spend time with you.”

_ Please don’t let my glitch chase you away. _

Jazz nodded decisively. “Well then, we ain’t going t’the garden. There’s a vid rental store around the corner and a nice cafe not far. You lay down on th’couch and I’ll go get us some take out and a vid. I’ll be back in a breem.”

Prowl was hungry. He did need fuel, but the thought of something fancy, heavy with additives and flavorings made this tank churn and his mouth burn. But could he turn down the gift without insulting Jazz? 

And what about the vid? Hopefully Jazz would choose something quiet, but Prowl didn’t think so. Jazz was… active. Fun. He’d probably like an action vid. All those explosions...

“What kind’a energon y’want, Prowl?”

He was tempted to say  _ anything, _ because it didn't’ matter: he’d purge whatever his lover chose to get. But the needless waste grated on Prowl’s nerves. “Nothing,” he said instead. “I”ll be fine with what I have here.” He kept some extremely pure low-grade here at the apartment for these days.

Jazz looked concerned. “Y’sure? Anythin’ you want. Whatever it is, it ain’t weird, I promise.”

Those were the same reassurances Jazz always used when Prowl’s needs and desires weren’t normal. And thus far, Jazz had been alright accommodating them. “I can’t drink anything with additives or impurities today.”

“Gotcha. You settle on the couch. Go back t’sleep if y’need. I’ll let m’self in when I get back. If I’m allowed.”

“Yes, of course.”

And then Jazz was gone.

.

.

.

Prowl knew someone was nearby, but not very close. He woke slowly, reluctantly. Everything still hurt. 

It was a joor later and it was still utterly quiet in his apartment. Silent even. Hadn’t Jazz said he was going to watch a vid? Prowl pulled himself up to see what was going on.

Jazz was right where Prowl thought he’d be. He’d pulled a chair from the dining area over to the entertainment area. He seemed absorbed in something on the screen, but Prowl couldn’t hear anything, and Jazz jerked in surprise as Prowl moved, refocusing his attention.

“Hey,” he said quietly, the vibration thrumming gently across Prowl’s overclocked sensors. “I thought you’d recharge longer. Hungry? I’ll fetch it.”

Prowl was starving. Still the thought of whatever Jazz had gotten from the cafe was nauseating. “Just set the dispenser for low-grade. I only keep it for times like this.”

“After I spent four breems arguin’ with the cook at th’cafe t’get your order right?” Guilt seeped into Prowl’s spark. Jazz shouldn’t go through that sort of trouble for something Prowl couldn’t even drink. “At least try it. Tell me if I got it right.”

He wouldn’t purge after a sip. Prowl nodded.

With a brilliant smile that lit up the room, Jazz retrieved the takeout cube. It was  _ much _ smaller than Prowl had expected. Which meant it had been expensive. Which meant it was a high energy blend and probably heavily flavored. Prowl regarded it with dread.

“Just a sip,” Jazz coaxed. “If y’don’t like it, I’ll get you a cube’a your normal stuff.”

_ Just a sip. _ Prowl lifted the cube to his lips, bracing —

The barely-there fiz of an extremely low-energy blend flowed across his lips, his tongue, and down his throat. Utterly flavorless and almost inert; his sensors hardly protested against the fuel. Desperate for any boost of energy, Prowl drank the rest of the small cube. 

Jazz grinned. “Thought so. I got’cha nine cubes like that. Figure if we can get one in you every few joors you won’t be low on energy tomorrow when y’gotta get up for work.”

That was… Speechless, Prowl just stared. 

Which only made Jazz smile wider. “Go back t’sleep, Prowl. I’ll be here when y’wake up again.”

Prowl resettled. In the process, he caught a glimpse of the vidscreen. Something normally loud and full of explosions played there, utterly silent. He looked at Jazz, unbelieving. 

Jazz just shrugged. “Ain’t like I gotta hear it t’understand th’plot. Sleep.”


End file.
